


everybody knows, that’s how it goes

by 57exit



Category: House M.D.
Genre: First Kiss, M/M, whomp... there it is, you don't really have to know midnight cowboy to read this it's like two separate stories by the end
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-22
Updated: 2021-02-22
Packaged: 2021-03-19 10:09:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,140
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29624676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/57exit/pseuds/57exit
Summary: house md ramble. they watch midnight cowboy then wilson tells house that he loves him.
Relationships: Greg House/James Wilson
Comments: 7
Kudos: 55





	everybody knows, that’s how it goes

**Author's Note:**

> strange, possibly contradictory ramble. writing this let me know just how limited my vocabulary is. however, i figure actually posting it might give me the motivation to continue and improve. i desperately want to be able to write their dialogue. this is probably set during s6.

It’s nine o’clock when Wilson finally unlocks the door to his and House’s apartment. It had been an exhausting day at work, one of his patients was having troubles with their new prescription, and the time had just flown by. He kicks his shoes off by the door, sets his briefcase down on the table, and lets out a long sigh. 

House, who is currently lazing on the couch with a bag of potato chips, turns around to look at him. “You’re late,” he says accusingly.

Wilson unbuttons the cuffs to his shirt. “Well, cancer doesn’t exactly cure itself”

House furrows his eyebrows. “I’m not sure you do either.”

“It was a weak joke. Give me a break, I’m tired.” 

House lets out a short hum and turns back towards the TV. Wilson starts undoing his tie and glances over to see what House is watching. Which, apparently, is nothing. The guide channel scrolls down the screen with its casual yet irritating slowness. 102, 103, 104, 105-

“What’s for dinner?” House asks, interrupting his thoughts.

Wilson rolls his eyes. “You seriously haven’t eaten yet? I’ll never understand how you survived without me as your live-in maid.”

“It was difficult,” he says absently, still focused on the guide.

Wilson concedes and glances towards the kitchen. “I was planning on reheating some of those chicken leftovers from Monday. We can split it if you want.”

“Sounds good.”

“Mhm,” Wilson mutters then heads back to his room to change. 

•••

Wilson pulls on an old sweatshirt, dumps his old clothes in the bin, then heads back into the kitchen to start getting dinner ready. He turns the oven on, takes the chicken out of the fridge and puts some seasoning on the top. Then he shoves it into the oven alongside some bread. He grabs two plates, one for him and one for House.

“Wilson!’ House shouts at him from the living room. “Midnight Cowboy is on at nine!” 

Wilson walks out to where he can see House. “Why would you want to watch Midnight Cowboy??”

House grunts, annoyed to be questioned. “The L Word is between seasons. There’s not much to choose from”

“But really, Midnight Cowboy? A movie with no hot broads to ogle?”

“He’s a prostitute! He fucks tons of broads!” House says defensively.

“Well yeah, but it’s… not really the focus”

“Okay wise guy, please enlighten me as to the real focus then”

Wilson raises his eyebrow and gives him a look. “Do you really want me to..?”

House rolls his eyes and gives up. “Oh come on, you love old movies, I thought you’d be happy”

Wilson pauses. Maybe this is just one of those rare ‘nice House’ moments. “Okay, sure. Let’s watch Midnight Cowboy,” he says and returns to the kitchen.

•••

The meal is ready just on time. Wilson hands House his plate and settles down with his own on the other side of the couch. The opening credits roll and there’s a comfortable silence between them, leaving only the sound of the TV and the occasional clink of their silverware. Many nights go just like this nowadays. It's quite nice, Wilson has to admit. 

House interrupts only once, to point at the screen and childishly comment "See? Boobs!" when Joe sleeps with the first lady. Wilson lets out a short chuckle in response.

•••

  
When the channel changes over to commercials, Wilson gets up and puts their plates away. He returns from the kitchen with two beers, and House accepts his wordlessly.

“Between the two of us, you’re Ratso” Wilson comments, settling down again.

“What, just because he has a limp? Is that all you think of me?” 

“Obviously not, he’s- Oh you’re messing with me. You know”

House smiles. “And you’re like Joe, a whore. Well, at least something fits.”

Wilson laughs, House looks smug, and the commercial break ends.

•••

  
During the next round of commercials, it's House who breaks the silence.

“You really think he’s gay?” he questions.

Wilson pauses. “Joe or Ratso?”

“Either. Both”

“I don’t know...” Wilson admits honestly. “There’s just something intense between them. How they only have each other. I guess it’d call it love”

House huffs, “That doesn’t make them gay.” He turns back to the TV. “I feel that way about you but that doesn’t mean I want to pound you into the sheets.”

Wilson pauses. Though graphic, the first part of that sentence was oddly sincere for House.

“You’re making this weird” House proclaims before Wilson gets the chance to respond. 

“I’m just being honest!!” Wilson says defensively, “You’re the one acting childish!”

House grins, thankful for the classic setup. “Would a child do this?” he says, grabbing the remote off the coffee table and switching the channel.

“House!!” Wilson yells, “Switch it back, I want to see the ending!”

“No,” House says playfully, knowing it’ll get Wilson worked up. Maybe he’s not that tired after all.

Wilson puts his beer down then moves closer to House’s side of the couch, desperately trying to grab the remote back out of his hands. House holds the remote up in the air with his left hand, as far away from Wilson as he can manage without getting up. His side presses against the arm of the couch. He waves the remote, taunting him. 

“Oh, you want this?” House says, trying to hold back laughter. Wilson leans across him, still determined to get the remote back. “Give up. I win.”

“No,” Wilson says, but he’s smiling now too. He finally grabs hold of House’s arm and tries to pull it down until the remote is within his reach. House sees an escape from this, and lowers his arm down suddenly, forcing Wilson to lose balance and fall into his lap. They’re still laughing as Wilson turns himself around till he’s starting directly up at House, head resting on his good leg. 

“You’re the worst,” Wilson says, an ugly grin spreads all across his face.

“You lose,” House taunts and turns the channel to one of his manly woodworking shows. “Much better,” he claims, knowing exactly how much Wilson hates them. 

“Mhm” Wilson responds sarcastically.

Then, for some reason inconceivable to House, Wilson makes no effort to move away. The weight of his head lays comfortably on House’s thigh and he lays still, observing House. House gives him an odd look then focuses his attention back towards the TV, trying to ignore that maybe it is a little weird to have your forty-year-old male best friend laying in your lap. Without a place to go, his fingers begin absently threading through Wilson's hair (way too soft for a grown man, if he can say), and Wilson closes his eyes, pretending to sleep. He lets out a fake snore to let House know just how bored he is. House rustles his hair and wishes it was the morning so Wilson would be annoyed at House for messing up his hair. When it starts to look like Wilson actually is asleep, House pokes him in the face or squeezes his nose to wake him up, to which Wilson merely laughs and closes his eyes again. It's nice. Warm.

House is completely indulged in the show when he suddenly feels Wilson's brown eyes on him. He looks down. “What?”

Wilson looks back unfazed. “You know I’m in love with you, right?”

House freezes, hand laying still in Wilson’s hair. What the fuck. 

“.....What?” he manages to say. 

“It’s like the movie, except since I am one of the characters, I know for sure”

When House doesn’t respond, doesn’t even move, Wilsons starts to look concerned.  
“Oh, come on. There’s no way you don’t know. Everyone knows!” 

“You’re drunk” House retorts. He shouldn’t have let Wilson get like this, let him lay in his lap while he lovingly pets his hair. God damnit. He knew this wasn’t what normal friends do, and maybe they’ve never been ‘normal’, but he should have known better. 

Wilson groans, and turns his face to House’s stomach. “Not as drunk as you’d like to think, I guess. I didn’t even finish that beer.”

House’s hand still lays limp across Wilson’s head. He looks over and sees that, indeed, Wilson hasn’t even gotten halfway through his beer.

“I can’t believe you didn’t know,” Wilson repeats to the silence.

House stares intensely at the air in front of him. He suppresses a jolt of pain to his leg. “You’re not gay” he states, as if he’s convincing himself that Wilson doesn’t really mean it.

“Well. I’m not… not gay,” Wilson says and shifts till he’s looking up at House again. There’s a moment of silence. “Wait, hold up. House, wait!” 

Wilson pushes himself off of House’s lap and sits up next to him on the couch again. “I told you! That first week we met. I told you I was bi!”

“No… I’m pretty sure you didn’t.” House looks frustrated.

“No, I’m pretty sure I did.” Wilson still looks confused. He takes a moment to recollect. “At that bar! The one off East Street, the one with the tacky neon sign out front. We were walking out of that bar, you made a joke, and I told you”

House glares at him. “Let me get this straight, no pun intended- you told me you were into dudes, more than twenty years ago, while I was plastered, and expect me to remember that?”

Wilson scoffs, “Sorry, I guess I thought it was important enough. You always boast about how well functioning your brain is, even on drugs.”

“-And then you thought, ‘Well, that’s enough, I’ll never mention it again for twenty years.” 

“It’s not- It’s not the easiest subject! It’s personal. I thought it was just something we didn’t say aloud…” Wilson says defensively. He pauses. “Wait, what were all the jokes about then?”

“They were JOKES!” House shouts, “You thought that was our playful banter? Oh, ‘Wilson’s secretly gay, let me publically mock him about it constantly’??”

Wilson barks a laugh. “Oh please, like that’s out of character for you. You treat me just like you do Thirteen! Your ringtone for me is Dancing Queen by Abba!!”

“That was a JOKE”

There’s another silence. “You ever fucked a guy?” House asks bluntly.

“Yes, of COURSE!” Wilson shouts. His words seem to echo loudly around the room, with nothing else moving to take their place.

House clearly wasn’t expecting that answer. He glances at the TV, glances at Wilson, then looks back to the TV and starts watching it. The man on screen starts sawing a piece of wood in half, commenting on the proposed design of the carvings. His hands move skillfully close to the blade, with no fear. House wonders if he still gets a thrill out of his job, or if it just gets old after a while. He wonders how long anyone could do one thing until they get bored of it.

He hears Wilson chuckle beside him but elects to ignore it. The man on screen starts to drag sandpaper the edges of the wood. Wilson is bent over himself with laughter now. House makes one last attempt to ignore him, but curiosity manages to get the better of him.

“What’s so funny?” he asks, annoyed at himself for giving in so quickly.

Wilson desperately tries to catch his breath. “No, no, now THIS is interesting. Apparently, this is the first time I’ve told you I’m gay, and you’re already trying to move past it. You know, I bet you didn’t forget it the first time I told you- I bet you repressed it. It scares you that I’m gay,” Wilson concludes, happy with his diagnosis. 

House finally turns back to look at Wilson. “You want to talk about it? It’s 2009 Wilson, no one cares. I don’t know what you want me to say- ‘I’m so proud of you for trusting me with this Wilson’ or ‘I’m so sorry Wilson, I know you’d love to shove me against the wall and have your way with me, but I just don’t see you that way’.” He says the last part mockingly. 

This seems to knock Wilson’s mood down a few pegs. He’d almost forgotten this wasn’t just about him being bi, and more about how he’d just informed House that he was in love with him. “Okay. Yeah. Nevermind, House.”

Dejected, Wilson lays his head back against the couch. They sit in silence again, watching as the hardware man begins to engrave the wood. All the excitement and joy from earlier seems to have completely fled the room. Wilson puts his feet up on the coffee table and closes his eyes, trying to focus on his breathing. How could House not have known? It’s not like he tries to hide it. He can feel the eyes on him whenever he talks to House at the hospital. Even Cuddy has started giving him odd looks. He cringes, just thinking about it. And even if House wasn’t able to pick up on it himself, surely all the gossip would have reached him eventually. He has informants! Were they too scared to tell him, or did they tell him and he just didn’t want to believe them. Wilson squeezes his eyes tight. 

He doesn’t know why he said it. Maybe it was something about the movie or about the night, but something overtook him in that moment and he just had to know. He had to hear House say it aloud. He wanted them to be able to accept it and to not have to pretend anymore that Wilson completely wasn’t head over heels for him. That Wilson wouldn't do anything for him. He wanted to let House know that it was okay, that he could deal with it, and that he wasn’t planning on doing anything about it. 

Maybe if it really scares him that much, Wilson thinks, he’ll just repress it again. This doesn’t really have to change anything. In fact, isn’t this what he wanted? For House to know that he’s loved? It just feels different without the presumed grace period in which House has already accepted it. 

He breathes out. It’s okay, he rationalizes. He’ll stick around, enable House, and House will accept it because he’s needy and can’t deal with anyone other than Wilson. This isn’t anything but a minor bump in the road. 

•••

  
He’s three minutes into his meditation when he hears House murmur something.

“What?”

“I said,” House repeats slowly, “You shouldn’t love me.”

Wilson huffs. “Ohh, don’t start with this. You’re manic, depressive, manipulative, needy, an asshole, and a jerk. I know all this already. It doesn’t matter, I still love you.”

He sees House twitch. He closes his eyes again.  


•••

  
Another few minutes pass, then he hears motion from beside him. He squints his eyes open and sees House swipe a hand across his face, not aware that Wilson is watching him. His eyes are aimed at the TV, though it doesn’t seem like he’s really paying attention. He moves his hand over to his leg and begins massaging it, as he does when he’s in pain. It takes Wilson a moment to realize what’s going on.

“Are you… crying?” he asks hesitantly. 

House flinches but manages to respond with his normal voice of irritation. “Why would I be crying?”

Wilson shifts closer to House. “No, I saw you. You are.” 

House won’t look at him, and since he figures they’ve given up boundaries for tonight, he uses his hands to manually turn House’s head towards him. He can tell House is doing all he can to make an angry face at him, but there’s a definite wetness to the corner of his eyes. Wilson wipes it away with his hand. House closes his eyes, silently ceding to what Wilson has already figured out. His face rests in Wilson’s hands.

“Oh my god…” Wilson says, amazed. “You really didn’t know, huh”. 

House glares at him silently. His blue eyes are brighter than usual. Wilson realizes with a shock that House hasn’t pushed him away yet. The roughness of his beard scrapes against Wilson’s hand. They stay there for a moment, then House’s eyes glint down to Wilson’s mouth and back up again. He looks terrified. 

It’s Wilson’s turn to freeze up. “No way. You’re kidding. You’ve got to be joking”

House’s eyes close again and sighs, almost exhaustively. Wilson can feel the weight of the sigh in his hands. The air blows across his face. Neither of them dares to move.

“House” Wilson says, like it’s a question. Tell me what you’re doing here, he asks silently. 

House doesn’t respond. Wilson feels himself start to shake as well. His fingertips twitch along House’s face. There’s a rough spot, he feels. Maybe House nicked himself this morning. Maybe he- never mind. He forcefully brings his attention back to the present. To their synced, slow breaths. To his dangerously high heart rate.

“Tell me to stop. Right now” he says, trying to hold his voice steady.

House lays dormant. Wilson hesitantly leans his forehead against House’s. Their noses touch. 

“C’mon, House. Tell me to stop” Wilson repeats for the final time. He’s whispering now. There’s no way this is happening. There’s no way House actually wants this. The years of longing, pinning… it wasn’t just him? Nothing makes sense anymore. He almost wants House to tell him to stop, rather than to admit he too was the moron in this relationship. But House still hasn't responded, so he shoves his fears away and leans in.

The moment their mouths meet, Wilson knows there’s no turning back. It feels completely surreal. He’s kissing _House_. House is _letting Wilson kiss him_. He can feel House hesitate a moment, then he begins kissing back. His arms seem to work again, and he grabs on to Wilson’s sides, trying to pull him closer. The forcefulness of the kiss increases and Wilson pours all of his heart into it. They kiss until Wilson’s lungs start to ache and he has to pull back for air.

“Fuck” he says aloud, lets out a laugh, then pulls House back in for more. He’s grinning so hard it’s almost difficult to continue with the kiss. House gains some confidence and moves his hands under Wilson’s sweatshirt, feeling the softness of his belly. Wilson practically whimpers at the touch. He stops for a moment to let House slide the sweatshirt over his head (they were always so in sync) and plants a kiss on House’s forehead. He’s undoing the buttons of House’s shirt when he realizes that House is watching him.

“What?”

House grins and leans his head forward until it's laying on Wilson’s shoulder. “You know..” he says sheepishly, “I love you too. A ridiculous, unsafe amount. I can’t believe you didn’t know that.”

**Author's Note:**

> thank you for reading!! again, i know it’s messy (definitely changes pov randomly throughout the story) but i hope it did something for ya. would love if u left a comment. let me know if i should try to write another! or if something is ooc i would love to know
> 
> also i think internal references are super interesting and there are definitely a few in here, but my favorite is the ‘i feel that way about you but-’ line from the odd couple.


End file.
